Death in Love
by zigzag.zippers
Summary: Russell Fabray lives a privileged existence until Death comes calling with an extraordinary proposition - she'll give him more time in exchange for a tour of life. But when she falls for Russell's beautiful daughter, Quinn, Death begins to realize that life is made up of years that mean nothing and moments that mean it all. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: So, I recently re-watched one of my favorite movies - _Meet Joe Black_ - and this mess happened.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

* * *

The partially opened doorway led to a large master bedroom furnished with the utmost simplicity, revelatory of its sleeping occupant, Russell Fabray. Even in his sleep, his face had a commanding quality, though it held a certain warmth to it underneath the fine wrinkles that had gradually developed over the years.

No doubt a man thoroughly hardened by life.

Breaking the bloodless silence that permeated the exquisite room, Russell groans as he clutches his upper arm.

For although he is asleep, there is an uncommon restlessness to him.

The severity of the pain wakes causes him to wake.

Hazel eyes shoot open as the distinguished man squeezed his arm in agony. His breathing ragged as he struggled to compose himself. A breeze comes through the open large open windows, causing a daunting shiver to crawl through his form.

_"... Yes." _A tranquil voice echoes through the wind.

Russell blinks once, twice, sweat dripping down his face.

Did he hear something?

Did he not?

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Russell releases his arm, and runs calloused hands over his face. His grimace of pain fades as the discomfort in his arm gradually subsides. He rises into a sitting position and reaches for the glass of water perched on a small mahogany desk besides his bed.

_"Yes..."_

He exhales deeply as the liquid douses his dry throat.

It is unmistakably a voice.

Russell sets down the glass of water and looks around the magnificent bedroom, a testament to his wealth, much like everything else in the Fabray Estate.

He settles back down in his duvets and pulls the covers up. He tries to close his eyes, but his senses won't let him.

_"Yes."_

The man jolts up again, visibly frightened now.

Wide eyes swivel to and forth across the expanse of the bedroom, but still Russel sees no one there.

There is but solute stillness and silence.

Russell hears nothing but the chirping of crickets down by the river of his Hudson River mansion, lights flicker from a shad-boat from beyond, he closes his eyes but they continue to flutter open, he glances up at the ceiling and finally, exhausted, he succumbs to sleep.

...

The next morning, Russell walks into a lavish breakfast room, dressed in one of his finest suits. Elegant in its design, the room is architecturally unique with its lovely octagonal shape and beautiful wood floors. The expanse of windows is broken up with large baroque curtains; sunlight shines through and warms up the room, a testimony to the beginning of summer.

He takes a seat at the head of the table and immediately, a housekeeper is beside him placing a cup of coffee by his side. Numerous men and woman in white uniforms fill the breakfast table with an assortment of juices, bagels, and pastries.

And a big bowl of berries, Russell's favorite fruits.

"Mr. Fabray, good morning, sir," the grey haired woman greets with the utmost respect.

Russell nods at her in acknowledgement, before his attention is captured by the appearance of his youngest daughter.

Lucy Quinn Fabray, his baby girl, the brightest light of his life.

Brilliant and beautiful, Russell couldn't have been prouder of his little Lucy Q.

"Good morning, sweetie!" he says, mustering up much enthusiasm.

The girl looks up from the files opened in front of her at the sound of his voice, matching hazel eyes meet.

"Daddy, I thought you were in a meeting?" she asks with surprise.

He motions to her to please come sit beside him, Quinn turns to an ever present attendant and kindly asks for a cup of coffee, tucks her papers into her carryall, and crosses over to where her father sat.

"I am. With you."

"And do the members the board know that you're bailing on them to spend the morning eating breakfast with your daughter?" Quinn quips as she takes a sip of her coffee.

The man chortles. "One of the perks of owning your own company, you can do whatever the hell you want."

"Lovely advice, dad." Quinn states with a grin, lifting up her cup to him. _  
_

_"Yes."_

Russell blinks rapidly, shaking his head subtly to clear away the voices in his head. He gazed at his daughter with pondering eyes. "Do you love Finn?"

She almost chokes on her croissant. "...There's a start for a meeting."

"I know it's none of my business -"

Quinn doesn't answer for a moment, then impulsively kisses her father on the cheek. "No, it's none of your business."

She's been with Finn Hudson since high school, Quinn was the head cheerleader and he was the captain of the football team. They were the prom king and queen for both junior and senior year, the perfect high school cliche. They stayed together all throughout college, doing the long distance thing while she was away at Yale for medical school as he stayed behind in New York to get his business degree.

She was confused as to why her father was asking her this question.

Where was this coming from?

Since when did her father become interested in her - admittedly unexciting - love life?

"Lucy Q," Russell began with seriousness in his tone. "Do you love Finn?" he asks again, taking one of her hands in his.

"You mean like you loved Mom?" She regarded him with a contemplative look.

Her parents loved each other through thick and thin, her mother stayed with Russell Fabray even as at his worst, and she brought him out of the darkness and back into the light. He would come home every night after work with flowers, and after dinner they would sit in the entertainment room as a family with her parents cuddling on the couch, her and her older sister Frannie sitting on the floor at their feet, watching episode after episode of their favorite sitcom, _Friends_.

And Russell loved her till she took her last painful death, collapsing with grief as she lost the battle to her sickness.

No, she didn't love Finn like how her father loved her mother.

Not even close.

Russell puffed out a breath. "Forget about me and Mom - are you going to marry him?"

"Probably." Quinn answer with a shrug, taking another bite out of her delicious pastry.

He smiles softly. "Well, now, don't get carried away."

"Uh oh -"

"Quinn, you're a hell of a woman. You've got a great career ahead of you, you're beautiful -"

"And I'm your daughter and no man will ever be good enough for me." She finished for him, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Well, I wasn't going to say that -"

"What were you going to say?"

"Listen, I'm crazy about the guy. He may not be that smart-" Quinn snickered, causing her father to shoot her a grin. "But he's aggressive, he could carry Fabray Communications into a whole other territory and me along with it."

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"That's for me. I'm talking about you. It's not so much what you say about Finn, it's what you don't say."

"You're not listening -"

"Oh yes, I am. There's not an ounce of excitement is this relationship, not a single thrill-"

"Dad-"

He silenced her with deep look. "Quinn, it worries me. I want you to get swept away. I want you to levitate. I want you to sing with rapture and dance like a dervish."

She nods her head with mock seriousness. "Oh, is that all?"

"Be deliriously happy. Or at least leave yourself open to be."

"'Be deliriously happy', right. Well, I'm going to do my utmost -"

He smiles tiredly. "I know it's such a cornball thing to say, and so unlike me but love...is passion, obsession, something you can't live without. Your mother always used to say that If you don't start something with any of those things, what are you going to end up with? I say fall head over heels, you only live once. Find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find that person? Forget your head and listen to your heart." He brings a hand up to his chest, "I'm not hearing any heart."

Quinn looks down blankly at the breakfast table.

"Run the risk, and if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived."

"...Bravo." She peers up at him through thick lashes. "Seriously, dad, are those berries laced with something?" Quinn jokingly eyes the fruits in his hands.

"Aw, you're tough."

"I'm sorry. But give it to me again. The short version."

"Stay open. Who knows? Lightning could strike."

Quinn licks her lips, brows furrowing in thought.

"Forgive the lecture -"

"I won't. And when I tell Finn about it, he won't either."

"You won't tell him, and even if you did, he'd clock it and punch it into his iphone in order to pull out some key phrases when he gives the Commencement Speech at Wharton."

Quinn grins widely. "You are terrible."

"I know." He states with a nonchalant shrug. "But I'm the only father you've got."

She kisses him on the cheek.

"Thank God."

...

Quinn inhales deeply as the wonderful scent of brewed coffee beans hits her senses the minute she steps foot into her favorite diner. She closes the door on the heat of the afternoon sun, fully entering the establishment. A thriving eatery diagonally across from the hospital's entrance, customers cheek-by-jowl as a pair of waiters juggle breakfasts served to a noisy throng of doctors, residents and interns. Quinn sits herself at the bar, smiling gracefully at the counterman, who - with a kind smile and a polite greeting - places a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. In a sense, this is a daily ritual, arming herself for the rest of the day.

Just as she reaches for a newspaper to read, she becomes aware of a young woman behind her speaking very loudly into a pay phone within the diner.

Her lips quirk up in amusement as she takes in the vertically challenged girl's baggy owl embroidered sweater, and the bright pink suitcase clutched tightly in the girl's other hand.

"...Noah, as I always say, the show must go on! There's a time to sow and a time to reap, you sow now and forget about her..." The tiny young woman pursed her lips, forehead creasing as she frowned.

Quinn took a large gulp of her coffee and tore gaze away from the other woman's full lips, accentuated by her pout.

She helplessly tried to ignore the conversation going on behind her, and tried to concentrate on the newspaper in front of her, but she couldn't.

There was something about the other woman that kept her attention.

"Of course, I liked her...I don't like her anymore... because you're my Jew-bro and anybody who messes with you messes with me...If I had the money, I'd be on a plane to California in a minute...Listen, as soon as I get my phone in, you're my first call, that's a promise...Where are you going now?... Good, you hit those books, get that degree, and keep cleaning those pools! One day we'll hang out at a shingle together... You bet, bro...I shall talk to you later."

"The slammin' vegan breakfast with a side of blueberry pancakes, commin' up!"

The young woman hangs up, turns around and sits down a few sits away from Quinn to an overflowing plate of egg substitutes, fake bacon, potatoes, and a towering plate of pancakes on the side. An elderly woman at the counter refills her cup of orange juice and the tiny brunette dives into the breakfast, eating it with such relish that Quinn couldn't take her eyes off her.

She seemed to sense Quinn's eyes, glances over, cheeks filled with a mouthful of food, and swallows sheepishly.

"Good morning!" The brunette's grin was blinding. "I was talking kind of loud there, I'm sorry."

"Not at all." Quinn clears her throat. "It was fascinating."

The brunette tilts her head, a curious look on her face. "What was 'fascinating' about it?"

"You and your 'Jew-bro'?"

"My Jewish brethren, Noah Puckerman." The young woman beams. "He and his so called 'sugar mama' broke up after her husband caught them doing unspeakable things to each other in the pool house. He was talking about dropping out of community college...again, and heading home to Ohio."

Quinn bites her bottom lip to keep her laughter in. "I'm sorry-"

"It's okay to laugh, Noah is a ridiculous human being. There's nothing to be sorry about. That's the way with men and women, isn't it?"

"What's the way?" The blonde inquires softly.

"Nothing lasts." The brunette sighs, taking a big gulp of her orange juice.

"I agree -"

"Why?" Chestnut tinted eyes gazed at her with such genuine question that Quinn had to look away.

"I was just being agreeable, now I've got to explain why?" She responds with a hitch in her tone.

The tiny brunette tilted her head with a look of intent, "I didn't mean anything by it, but that 'nothing lasts' stuff, that was the trouble with Noah's woman. She was fooling around and her husband caught her at it. One man wasn't enough for her. She really should've known better though. If her life was a musical, it would've ended up with her spending the rest of her years in her decrepit mansion singing about lost love and regret."

"So you're a one-guy kinda girl?" Quinn asks with a smile.

The brunette glances down briefly at her already half finished meal. "One-girl kinda girl, actually."

A perfectly plucked and shaped brow arches. "Is that right?"

The other girl gives a proud nod. "In the words of my Jew-bro, damn right!" She pauses for a moment before looking up at Quinn with twinkling eyes. "Looking for her right now, actually."

Quinn didn't even bother stopping the smile that blossoms on her face. "Oh, are you now?"

The brunette grins goofily at her. "Absolutely. Who knows? You might be her." She announces with a nonchalant shrug.

The blonde couldn't help but laugh at the girl's lack of tact.

"Well, don't laugh." The other girl's lower lip juts out. "I know I'm not some six-foot tall hunk, but you know, I just graduated from one of the best performance art schools in the city... I have a steady job at a record store... I can bake... I'm, uh, I'm trying to get into this really great apartment."

"Well, aren't you just a catch?" Quinn cuts in with a grin.

The brunette lets out a soft laugh. "Are you a doctor?" Her gaze settles on the beautiful blonde's eyes, transfixed by the flecks of green swirling within the deep pools of molten gold.

"How'd you know?"

"Everybody's a doctor around here." She answers with a shrug, looking around with wide eyes. "This apartment house is all green pajamas and slippers. The guy I'm waiting for to vacate is a doctor. What kind of doctor are you?"

"Internal medicine."

The brunette smiles. "So if I needed a doctor, you could be it?"

"I... could be her." Quinn blushes when the brunette looks at her with an unspoken softness with those doe-like eyes.

"_Her_." The brunette echoes, a small smile etched on her lips.

"Yes, I could." Quinn pauses for a moment. "I have an office in the hospital."

The tiny young woman beams. "Well, I do believe this is my lucky day. I come to a new part of the city and I not only find a doctor, but a beautiful woman as well."

Quinn looks into her coffee, heat rising to her neck and face.

"I'm sorry, do you mind me saying that?"

Hazel eyes flutter, long lashes tickle cheeks, and pale cheeks color slightly with a hint of pink. "Not at all."

"Well, good. Because you're the prettiest girl I've ever met...but I can see that there's so much more to you than that." She looks away from Quinn, once more, and shoves another forkful of pancakes into her mouth.

The blonde clears her throat. "Thank you-"

"How about another cup of coffee?"

Quinn starts to shake her head, albeit reluctantly. "I've got patients coming in -"

"And I want to get into my apartment and go to work. Please, what do you say, another cup of coffee?"

Two pots are warming behind the counter, the young brunette reaches over and refills Quinn's cup. She pushes a container of sugar and pitcher of milk towards her.

Biting her lip, Quinn begins to fix up her coffee.

They smile at each other.

...

Russell proceeds through a high tech, but tasteful maze of spiffy executive secretaries at burnished desks. Neither looking right or left, somehow Russell- ages to acknowledge their bright smiles and deferential nods despite his swift entrance. He passes through an open set of doors, reaching his own suite, commanded by his assistant.

"Good morning, Mr. Fabray."

"Hello," he greets with a charming smile, entering his office, and closing the door swiftly.

Alone in his office, Russell's ebullient mood immediately changes. Leaning against the back of the couch, he stares out through floor-to-ceiling windows, surveying the Manhattan skyline: cogitates. He takes a seat on the couch, and reaches for a folder on the table in front of him.

Suddenly flinches as a spasm of pain burst through his shoulder.

It is sharp but brief.

He notices it but when it does not continue, he ignores it. He resumes looking at the folder when suddenly the pain comes again. He reaches for his shoulder and tries to massage the pain away, but it does not subside. Russell stands up, trying to shake it off, but it refuses to go away.

Something is unmistakably wrong.

A sound which he has come to recognize, makes itself heard.

_"Yes."_

Frozen with surprise, Russel's eyes search the room for the source of the voice, much like he did in the privacy of his bedroom.

It comes from no particular direction, yet _surrounds_ him.

Russel's symptoms sharply intensify, and he finds himself sinking to the floor but somehow grabs a corner of the desk, holds on with one hand, with the other clutches at his shoulder and arm, the pain has violently seized the upper part of his body. He breaks out in a sweat, his pallor now waxen as the voice repeats itself.

_"...Yes."_

He grips the edge of the desk, the pain assaulting him.

The voice continues coming at him from the outer and the inner, each aberration feeding on the other.

"What is going on!" Russell is beside himself, consumed with pain and bewildered by what seems to be a hallucination, but which he is certain is not.

He is possessed. He angles his face in every direction, arbitrarily chooses one and now embarrassingly, unconsciously, enrage, responds to the voice.

_"Yes."_

"'Yes' what?"

_"'Yes' is the answer to your question."_

"I didn't ask any question." He all but yelled in his empty office.

_"I believe you did."_

Russell is absolutely confounded, seized up with pain and consternation at this unseen voice which has such presence and reality.

"Who are you?"

Silence.

"Goddammit, what is going on?"

_"I think you know-"_

"I don't!"

_"Try. Because 'if you haven't tried, you haven't lived'."_

A moment.

"What are you talking about?"

_"What you were talking about."_

Russell gasps when the sound of his voice talks back to him. "What is this? Who the hell are you!" He holds on tight to the corner of the desk, sweat dripping, his skin ashen. He addresses the voice again, searching for it in another direction.

"Tell me who you are!"

_"Are you giving me orders?"_

"I'm sorry, I-"

_"No, you're not. You're trying to 'handle' the situation but this is the one situation you knew you never could handle."_

A spasm, the worst one yet, finally it subsides and there is an eerie silence in the room, a desolate void, almost more disturbing than the voice that has filled it.

"Where are you? Are you there?"

_"It's enough now."_

"Please. Talk to me -"

_"There's going to be plenty of time for that."_

"What do you mean?"

_"I think you know -"_

"Know what?"

Nothing.

"Know what, goddammit!"

It was gone.

...

The place has cleared out now, the counterman busy cleaning tables laden with dishes and cups, Quinn still sat at the counter, staring at the young woman before her with barely concealed wonder.

"...I know it's not a very "steady" career," the brunette air quotes, "but...my fathers always taught me to reach for the stars and never settle for things that failed to make me happy. "

"And is that what you're going to be doing your whole life...'Happy'?"

"I know what you're saying." The brown eyed girl responds with a small understanding nod. "Everyone who graduates from art schools and such- they all wanna get out there and prove themselves. It's going to be tough, and I know I won't be making a decent living till at least my third role in some off Broadway production, but that's fine with me. I guess it depends on the woman I marry. Maybe she'd like a bigger house, a better car, lots of kids," she pauses briefly with a wistful smile. "College doesn't come cheap -"

"You'd give up what you want for the woman you marry?" The doctor interrupts with a look of disbelief.

"I would." The brunette's statement was laced with pure honesty.

Quinn get up from her seat, breathing in deeply.

The other woman rises with her, following the blonde as she headed for the door.

"If I married you..." the brunette began with an innocent grin and starry eyes. "I'd want to give you what you wanted, I know it's quite old fashioned and all that but, what's wrong with taking care of a woman? She takes care of you."

"You'll have a hard time finding a woman like that these days."

"You never know. Lightning could strike," The brunette declares dramatically with a charming grin.

Quinn's at the door now, she pauses abruptly, her eyes on the brown eyed woman.

The brunette holds the door for Quinn as they step out onto the street.

Quinn is staring openly at the other young woman now. The brunette wore a kind smile, looking back at her all open and vulnerable.

Her breath catches as she stares deeply into bottomless chestnut eyes. "I-um, I've got to go-" she stutters out, tearing her eyes away.

The brunette catches her wrist in a gentle grip. "Did I say something wrong?" she asks worriedly.

"No," Quinn breathes out shakily. "You said it all so right it scares me."

The brunette shyly lets go of her hand. "I've been thinking... I don't want you to be my doctor." She states in a serious manner, furrowing her brows at Quinn. "I don't want you to examine me."

"Why?"

If possible, the young woman's eyes get even rounder. "Because I like you so much." The tiny brunette smiles sweetly at the stupefied doctor.

_'Those eyes are gonna be the end of me,'_ Quinn muses silently, her eyes fluttering shut as butterflies ravaged her insides.

"You have coffee here every morning, don't you?" The brunette continues on. "If I came by, could you give me the name of a doctor?"

Another moment of quietness passes by before Quinn gets her bearings in order. "Um, s-sure, I'll give you the name of a doctor." When the brunette send her another breathtaking smile, she bites her lip in hesitation. "...And I don't want to examine you."

"Why not?"

"Because I like you so much." Quinn flushes brightly.

They gape at each other wordlessly before breaking out into embarrassed giggles and shy smiles.

"Now, um, I've got to go."

"Of course! I-um-I'll see you."

They step away from other, reluctance evident in their steps. Quinn waves goodbye and hurries down the sidewalk, leaving the other woman to stand there in awe, watching her walk away.

The young woman turns and starts off in the opposite direction, wondering if that truly just happened.

Quinn looks back at the tiny brunette, torn between wanting to run after her, or shout to the sky how right her father was.

Instead, she bites her lip, puffs out a huge breath, turns, and walks on.

The brunette glances behind her just as Quinn faces forward.

The Distance between them widens.

Pausing once more, Quinn turns around once but the young woman is still headed in the opposite direction, her back to her.

She turns the corner and continues on.

Approaching the corner, the young woman looks back for Quinn yet again, but she is gone.

Still turned she steps off into the street, caught up in her thoughts, filled with hazel eyes and pretty pink lips.

Prettiest girl she's ever met.

...

_"Run the risk, and if you get hurt, you'll come back."  
_

_..._

A hospital supplies truck, speeding down the curb lane, hits her broadside. The impact is horrific, the thud echoes as her body arcs through the air.

Another sickening thud as it lands.

...

_"Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this."_

_...  
_

The young woman lies crumpled, still.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

* * *

Russell took small sips of his wine as he listened to the conversation going around him. The dining room's glass roof offered superb view of the Manhattan sky- line, something he greatly took advantage of as Quinn and her companions talked amongst themselves. The hour is before dinner; gathered on one side of the table are Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez - they've been his daughter's best friend's since the three girls barely reached past his knees - often coming over to the mansion and running around the vast expanse of the Fabray's backyard, feeding the docks by the pond. On the other side of the table sat Quinn and Finn. The butler and the housekeeper were passing hors d'oeuvres and refilling drinks.

"...Music, Q... the music has to be good. You're dad only turns sixty-five once and the last thing he probably wants is music that puts a thousand other people to sleep. I've agonized over this and finally settled on Sidney Brown, twenty-four men, very eclectic, plus I'm feathering in a Latin sextet on their breaks -"

"Sextet?" Brittany repeated with a grin on her face.

Quinn shook her head in amusement and turned to the quiet man at the head of the table. "What do you think dad?...Dad?" Russell has subconsciously tuned everyone out, he tried to stay with it, but his mind has wandered back to the events at the his office. "You haven't heard a word, have you? We keep talking and all you do is nod."

Russell still doesn't answer.

"Hello?" Quinn furrowed her brows. "Are you okay, daddy?"

The business man blinks rapidly.

"What, honey?"

Quinn sighed heavily. "We've all been taking time out of our busy schedules to plan this, dad. I want this party to be like something Mom would have made for you, I want it to be perfect -"

"I know you do, darling."

"And you could care less -"

Russell shook his head. "You couldn't be more wrong, honey. I can' tell you how much I appreciate it and how much I'm looking forward to it." He tries to look as excited as he can but, still his thoughts linger on the voice that haunts him.

"Good. Now, Music. Santana was just talking about how she found the perfect band to play-"

A stab of pain, Russell discreetly grabs his upper arm but manages to keep his attention on Quinn.

"Tell it to me again, dear," he says, gesturing for Santana to speak.

_"...Yes."_

Russell's head snaps, startled.

_"Did you miss me?"_

He reacts once more, aware again that he is the only one who has heard the voice, as an oblivious Santana continues. Eventually, the other occupants of the table notice that the older gentleman has once again seemingly lost interest in the conversation.

"Never mind." Santana grumbled with a roll of her eyes, gulping down her wine. "Leave it to me."

The business man ignores her, his attention has been taken by the voice. His eyelids flutter, nonplussed, edgy and fearful.

"Mr. Fabray, dinner is served."

"Sweet!" Finn beams, looking hungrily at the dishes the servers were placing on the long elegant table. "Chow time, guys!"

Russell sat confounded.

Blindly and disconcerted, he follows the girls and Finn in their motions and as disturbed Russell begins to dine, he hears the voice once more.

_"What are you looking so provoked about? 'Did you miss me?' It's a normal question. I missed you. But what do I get back? 'Not an ounce of excitement, not a whisper of a thrill -'"_

Russell is on the edge of his seat, struggling to hide his panic.

_"I'm waiting outside. Won't someone come to the door?"_

Shocked and scared out of his wits, Russell strives to gain control of himself. As the butler serves him, he gestures the housekeeper over. "Is-um, is someone at the door?"

"I didn't hear a ring, sir."

He responds to her sharply. "Please have a look."

"Wonder if the mayor's coming?"

"Who cares about him? What I wants to know is which celebrities are attending."

"Looking for new clients?"

"You know it, Q-tip. I'm a divorce lawyer, Auntie Tana's always looking for new suckers to help pay for her boo's new motorcycle."

"That's so sweet, babe."

"Guys, this chicken is awesome!"

Russell doesn't hear a word, preoccupied with the return of the housekeeper.

"We have an acceptance list that would do The White House proud. The Secretary-General of the UN, the Chairman of the FCC, nine Senators, I don't know how many Congressmen, all the A-list celebs, and at least twelve of the Fortune '500'."

"No jocks? A twenty-game winner or a Masters champion? Someone I could talk to without getting confused?"

"Talking to a toddler makes you confused, Finnept."

"Santana." Quinn warns, laying a comforting hand on Finn's arm.

The housekeeper returns to Russell as the others' conversation drones on.

"You were right, Mr. Fabray. There was a young woman at the door. She's waiting for you in the foyer."

Russell is stunned. "Show-show her into the library, t-tell her I'll be right there," he manages to get out. His head was spinning with anxiety, and tries to summon up his courage to stand.

"What about party favors, Q?"

"I say we give em' ducks."

"I don't know if the CEO of a billion dollar company would appreciate that, Brittany."

Finally Russell rises from the table.

"Any thing you wanna say, Daddy?"

"Uh - I don't know. No- uh- I don't..."

Quinn is about to press the point, but then drifts into disappointed silence as Russell abruptly leaves the room.

...

Russell moves deliberately down the hall, slowing down as he nears the doorway to the library. The door is open and it's eerily quiet inside. There's not a hint of sound or a single stir of commotion. He hesitates before he crosses the threshold, taking in as much as his eyes can see.

Cautiously, he enters.

The library was beautiful, a classic room, areas were lit with dim, warm lighting, club chairs were organizedly placed around the premise, books reaching to the ceiling, and there was even a rolling library ladder. A weathered dictionary lay on a stand, a model boat carved of bone set into the stacks which were separated from the reading area by a seven-foot high partition of obscured glass.

Russell, poised in the doorway, looks around and sees nothing in sight.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Anyone here?"

There is no response.

"I said is anyone here?"

_"Please, quiet down."_

Russell is startled, he shrinks backward for a moment, his eyes searching the room for the source of the voice, the timbre and pitch of which is different from what he's heard before. There is the sense that someone is there but Russell cannot see anything, and he does not dare look.

"Where are you?"

_"I'm here."_

There's flicker of a shadow from behind a corner of the obscured glass, the section of the room most distant from Russell.

And there is a shape.

Something is there.

"What is this, a joke, right?" he demanded sharply. "Some kind of elaborate practical joke? At my 40th reunion, we delivered a casket to the Class president's hotel room and -" Russell pulled at the tie around his neck, loosening it.

_"Quiet."_ The voice commanded gently. A chill ran down the business man's spine and he made a move to rush out of the room that was slowly but surely, suffocating him. "_Where are you going, Russell?"_

"I-I- uh-" He sputtered out nervously, a far cry from his usual collected demeanor.

The shape moves, successfully making itself more visible. Although still diffused by the glass, the shape has taken definition, a person, a rather short person. Their features are not yet distinguishable, but they were clearly there.

_"Are you at a loss for words? The man from whose lips fall 'rapture' and 'passion' and 'obsession'...all those things about being 'deliberately happy', what there is no sense 'living your life without...', all the sparks and energy you give off, the rosy advice you dispense in round, pear-shaped tones -"_

"What the hell is this? Who are you!"

_"Just think of millenniums multiplied by aeons compounded by infinity, I have been around that long, but it is only recently that your affairs here have piqued my interest. Call it boredom, the natural curiosity of me, the most lasting and significant element in existence has come to see you."_

Russell struggles to make sense of it all.

"About what?"

_"I want to have a look around before I take you."_

"'Take me'...? Where?"

_"It requires competence, wisdom, experience - all those things they say about you in testimonials - and you're the one."_

"'The one' to do what?"

_"Show me around. Be my guide. And in return, you get..."_

"Get what?"

_"Time."_

"What the hell are you talking about?"

_"Language!"_

"I'm sorry -"

_"In return you will receive minuets, days, weeks, I am not going to go into details ... what matters is that I stay interested."_

Russell puffs out a breath, pulling his tie off completely now.

_"...'Yes'."_

"Yes what?"

_"'Yes' is the answer to your question."_

"What question?"

_"The question, Russell. The question you've been asking yourself with increased regularity, at odd moments, panting through your way up the stairs, when you sat up in bed last night and hit the floor in the office this morning. The question that is in the back of your throat, choking the blood to your brain, ringing in the ears over and over as you put it to yourself -"_

"The 'question'-"

_"Yes, Russell. The question."_ The voice urges.

"...Am I going to die?"

The figure takes a step forward, and no longer obscured by the glass, a girl comes into the light, revealing herself to the frightened business man. Russell took in the sky blue owl embroidered sweater, the rolled up khakis, and the ankle socks before facing the source of his conflicts. The young woman seemed at odd, it was as if she didn't know how to properly conduct her own body. She looked young, around the same age as Quinn, and although not conventionally 'pretty', there was terrifyingly striking charm about her. Deep chestnut eyes seemed to stare into his very soul.

"Yes."

Russell is absolutely beside himself. He could barely make himself speak. "Am I dreaming this?" he muttered quietly, almost afraid of provoking the young woman in front of him. "Are you a dream?"

"I am not a dream." The brunette responded slowly, eyes unblinking.

"You're coming to 'take me'. What is that? Who the hell are you?"

"Language, please. There is no need for such hostility." The young woman steps closer to him, her face inches from the shaking, sweating face of Russell. The young woman stares at him, daring the gentleman to defy her.

"You are -?" he finally breathes out.

''Yes."

Russell turns away. But the young woman, spectacularly, is in front of him again. "Who am I, Russell?" She urges him to answer, chestnut eyes boring deeply into frightened hazel ones.

"...Death." Russell is shocked, stunned, terrified at the word, by what he has comprehended. He surveys the young woman who, at this moment, actually seems bewildered by her effect. She didn't understand what was so terrifying about her. "You're Death?"

The young woman nods rather naively. "Yes."

"Death." He repeats, more to himself, really.

"That is me." She chimes in.

"You're not Death." Russell scoffs in disbelief, running a shaking hand through his hair. "You're just a kid in a sweater and- and khakis!" He says, continuing to eye the tiny brunette wearily.

"The sweater and the pants came with the body I took." Death responds, titling her head innocently. "Let me ask for your opinion. Do I blend in?"

A hopelessly confused Russell does not respond.

"Russell?"

"...You want me to be your guide -?"

"Yes. You fit the bill, Fabray." Her lips quirk up naturally, causing the young woman to bring a hand up to her face. "Huh, what an odd motion." She mumbles to herself, casually pulling at her lips in awe.

"I fit the bill?" Russell gulps.

"You do."

"And how long will you be staying?"

"You should hope quite a while," the young woman responds distractedly, eyes jutting from every direction, eagerly taking in her surroundings.

Like an excitable puppy, Russell mindlessly thought to himself.

"And then, what? It-it's..."The young woman nods, gently. "...over."

There's a long silence as Russell and the young woman take each other in, with a sense that they understood each other.

A knock on the door breaks the pause.

"Mr. Fabray?"

The housekeeper steps inside the Library.

"Will the lady be staying for dinner, sir?"

Russell ignores her at first, finally he looks at housekeeper then at the young woman - who looked delighted at the prospects presented by the housekeeper- then once more at both of them as if to verify that the young woman's presence has been acknowledged by the elderly servant.

"Yes." The young woman interjects. "Thank you," she adds as a polite afterthought.

The servant nods perfunctorily and exits.

"Where is dinner?" the small brunette inquires softly.

"This is crazy - you're not going to eat dinner with us." He shakes his head, dumbfounded at the situation.

"Russell, I am eating dinner with you. And your family. And that is what we are doing. It is not open for discussion. Nothing is. Don't you understand?"

He doesn't respond, frightened by the response.

"Good. Now lead the way." Russell hesitates, then obediently leads the young woman out of the library, down a long hallway and across the foyer. "Excuse me? Could I say something?"

"Of course." The brunette replies kindly.

"It just occurred to me -"

"Speak up, please," the young woman runs her fingers along the walls of the hallway as they walked towards the dinning room.

"When I introduce you," he hesitates, "if I say who you are... I don't think anyone will stay for dinner."

...

"...Well, here's another possibility. As a parting gift, maybe we should just have Finny plant a big one on em'..."

"That's totally gross, San."

"Sorry, Britts. I thought that was what we were going for since Quinn here brought up freakin' kaleidoscopes- seriously, what era are you from-"

Quinn looks up as a throat is cleared and watches in stunned silence as her father walks back in with the girl she met at the coffee shop, the girl she couldn't stop thinking about since they've parted.

"Hello." The young woman greets, raising up a hand awkwardly. Russell rubs his hands together anxiously, horribly uncomfortable as the young woman looked at each person at the table as if she was discovering a face of the first time.

"Uh- sorry- to have stepped away for so long - uh - this is a friend of mine I asked to drop by - we got to talking and stuff- uh- she's going to join us for dinner- um- "

Russel drifts into an awkward pause.

"Hi," Quinn husks out, hazel eyes shining as she kept her gaze at the tiny brunette by her father's side.

"Nice to meet you, dude!" Finn exclaims, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"...'Nice to meet you, dude.'" The young woman echoes. She turns to Russell expectantly, not knowing what to do next.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks and gestures to the people at the table. "This is my daughter, Quinn, and her friends, Brittany, Santana, and Finn, her-"

"Daddy," Quinn interjects softly, biting her bottom lip. "Does your friend have name?"

"A name?" Russell owls, staring wide eyed at the girl beside him. "Uh-"

"Yeah, something she goes by," Brittany adds.

"Oh, of course, excuse me. This is- uh- this is-"

"Come on, Mr. F, the suspense is killing me." Santana exclaims with a wolfish grin.

"Sorry..." he chuckles lamely. "Um- you-you know it's gone right out of my head-"

"Happens to me a lot," Finn mumbled through a mouth fool of food. Quinn didn't bother to chastise him, too caught up in taking in the young brunette's stilted movements.

"I'm sorry. This is - uh - uh...right on the tip of my tongue...R-Rachel...Yes- um- that's it-"

"Rachel..." Quinn says softly to herself, attracting Santana's attention. The Latina raised a brow at the soft blush on her best friend's cheeks.

"Just plain 'Rachel'?" Finn questions.

"Love that name." Brittany states with a nod. "Reminds me of '_Friends'._ Q, remember when you used to make us watch that show every time we came over?"

Quinn smiled and hummed at her friend distractedly.

Santana frowns at the stupid look on the hazel eyed blonde's face. "Rachel, huh?" She says, turning to regard the young woman.

"Yes." Death responds, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater.

"Is there any more to it?"

Russell cuts in. "What do you mean?"

"Like Smith or Greene or Brown-'"

The older gentleman's face reveals a desperate yet subtle search for a last name, casting a furtive glance at Death. His brow darkens and a name tumbles from his lips.

"-B-Berry."

"Rachel Berry," Quinn mumbles quietly. Her breath catches in her throat when the girl catches her eye. The two lock eyes for a moment, and the blonde is confused when she sees a look of unfamiliarity in Rachel's gaze.

"Let's sit down, Rachel."

The housekeeper has set a plate in front of Rachel, and Russell, who's food was taken to the kitchen to be warmed, was returned. Death looks over at the other guests, then picks up her utensils gingerly, and strives to copy the others, but stops and stairs at the food.

"She's vegan, Daddy," Quinn blurts out when she sees the brunette hesitate.

Russell pauses tensely. "You know each other?"

"We've met." The blonde utters gently.

"What?"

"...This morning. The Corinth Coffee Shop. She was looking for a doctor." Quinn frowned as Rachel failed to look at her, still staring intently at the food on her plate.

"Well, I guess she's found one." Brittany beams, grinning at the young woman. Rachel looks up, happily confounded by everything around her.

"What are you doing here, Rachel?" the doctor asks, frown deepening. This wasn't the girl she met at the coffee shop at all. Why was she acting like she didn't know who Quinn was? Where was the girl who was joking about marrying her?

Rachel hears the question but, as she studies the now stoic looking blonde, doesn't answer.

"Incidentally, Rachel, where are you staying?" Santana crosses her arms as the odd girl looked around enthusiastically before responding.

"Here."

"'Here'? In this house?"

Quinn visibly tenses as Rachel nods. "Cat got your tongue? You weren't so silent this morning." She snaps, unable to help herself.

Russell stares at his daughter before turning to face Death.

"Rachel, since you won't be eating, why don't we attend to some business."

Death nods politely, standing up. She obliviously takes each person's hand and shakes it awkwardly. "It is so very nice to see you again," she says to Quinn when she reaches her.

"Funny, I don't get that feeling. Maybe it's because you found out I'm_ Russell Fabray's_ daughter."

"Cut it out, Quinn." Far too shocked, Quinn doesn't respond. She was embarrassed, conflicted, an instant and wide spectrum of emotions.

"Thank you for dinner. Quinn, Brittany, Santana, Finn," she gives them each a nod in acknowledgement. Rachel makes an awkward little bow, then heads for the nearest door.

"Rachel, that's the kitchen." Russell sighs wearily.

"Oh. Thank you." The young woman pivots, and follows the gentleman out the proper door.

"That was 'Rachel'." Finn hums, taking a large chug of his wine.

"She's cute." Brittany muses.

"Very." Santana adds, eyeing the now silent Quinn across from her. The hazel eyed doctor's eyes are still on the door where Rachel exited, her face reflecting her irritation and bewilderment, excitement...and something else entirely.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:I don't own anything.

* * *

...

As Rachel was led through the mansion by Russell to the guest room being prepared, her mind wandered back to dinner. Her face formed a natural grin as she thought about the interactions she had with everyone at the table. She hummed cheerily to herself, eyes darting every which way, taking in the grand architecture of the Fabray manor.

Russell spoke up. "...I'm sorry, I'm a little disconcerted, that stuff between you and my daughter, it threw me." He frowned deeply, looking up at her with a troubled expression.

"_'_Threw' you?" She tilted her head, curios but lost. "Where?"

He shook his head with a sigh. "It's an expression. I meant that, uh, it shook me up, baffled me- I mean that you knew her and everything-"

Rachel interrupted him gently. "I do not know her, Russell. The young woman who's body I took knew her." She explained calmly. "The girl she met in the coffee shop this morning."

"So there's nothing between you and Quinn?"

Russell looked almost hesitant to ask, again prompting Rachel to muse over why people seemed so intimidated by her. Why did people fear death? She didn't know much, or anything really, about how people functioned- what emotions were, what they were for, how they worked, or...why she felt the way she did at dinner whenever her gaze met Quinn's.

When she took the young woman's body, thoughts of the blonde and their encounter at the coffee shop lingered around the young woman's psyche. Quinn was the last thing on the young woman's mind before Rachel took her. Incidentally, the blonde's beautiful face was the first thing Rachel 'saw' when she came to life, which was perhaps why she felt..._odd _around Quinn.

Ignoring the man's question, she asked one of her own. "Do you think Quinn and her friends found my company to be delightful?" she asked politely.

"...Uh, Sure." Rachel beamed at this. "But I wish you had said something to me about staying here-"

"It hadn't occurred to me until then. I was just having such a wonderful time - Besides, is this not what I am here for?"

Russell suddenly looks very anxious, causing Rachel to stop.

"You seem... uncomfortable, Russell"

"No, I'm okay with this- uh- I think-" He opens a door that leads to a very spacious bedroom, complete with its own bathroom. "There's the bathroom over there...it has tub...sauna...towels-"

Rachel eyes the bed thoughtfully.

Russell turns back to face her. "...Chair, lamp, bed-" He begins chatter on unconsciously. "Box springs, they're assembled in Jakarta. Had to stay in a station manager's house there unexpectedly- best night's sleep I ever had. Ordered twenty, they filled a container and shipped them right over, I've put one in every bedroom here and in the country."

Sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed, Rachel tests the springs, bouncing lightly. "What a great idea!" She turns to him an awed smile. "This bed is..._splendid_!"

Russell glances around nervously. "If there is anything else you need, uh, don't hesitate -"

"I won't." She states, still bouncing joyously on the bed.

The man almost smiled at the site innocence of Rachel until he remembered just exactly who she was. "How long have I got?"

Stopping her bouncing, Rachel regards him with a serious look. "You are putting me on the spot, Russell." She pauses briefly, running a curious hand along the soft duvet. "...Let's put it this way. When I go, you go. When you go, I go. That's the best I can do...but minute-by-minute, I find myself... lingering."

"...I just saw my doctor, he told me everything was fine." He argued, almost helplessly.

"Your doctor?" She repeats softly. "Did your doctor say anything about a tiny, undetectable hole in your aorta? Did he mention an irreparably weak vein in the further reaches of your famous brain? Were there any prognostications about the possibililites of a fatal collision on a golf cart or suffocating in an avalanche on a skin vacation in Gstaad?"

He swallows with difficulty. "No."

"I hope you realize, Russell," Rachel looks him in the eyes, "...in your office this morning, that was your time."

Russell stands still, tears springing up at the young woman's revelation. Standing up from her perch, Rachel took in the wetness of the man's eyes and frowned inquisitively. "You are still here. Count your blessings. Call it, uh, gravy- frosting on the cake, whatever it is you humans say." She gave him a smile, quite liking how her cheeks tingled whenever she did.

"Well, thank you for letting me know." He cleared his throat, heading for the door. "And- uh- I guess, 'goodnight'."

"Good night to you, Russel." She waved at him, almost with a child like innocence. "And thank you." Turning away from him, Rachel looks attentively around the room, running her hands along every surface they could reach.

As the door closes behind her, signaling Russell's exit, she glaces at the closed door thoughtfully.

Rachel spends a joyous amount of time examining her room, full of curiosity and wonderment at the oddest things, the handle on a casement window, the hem and weight of the fabric of a drape, hinges on the bedroom door. In the process she opens the door, stepping out into the hallway. She begins to wander down the hallway past the occasional Dufy and Miro, a Venetian tapestry cheek-by-jowl with a miniature Ming vae, and even a Bonsai garden with a trickling vein of water.

She somehow finds herself in the very back of the house, utilitarian paint and decor, she pauses at the sound of laughter and a glare of light. Inquisitively, she enters the bright room, which turns out to be a large kitchen.

The staff is at ease in their environment, some smoking cigarettes, some snacking on remains of food scattered around a large counter. The butler, who has his back to Rachel does not see her for a moment. In front of him, there is an open jar of peanut butter which he is spreading in generous hunks of Wonder Bread. Rachel's absolutely fascinated by the process. Suddenly realizing the silence around him, the butler looks up and see the young woman, he stands up in embarrassment.

"Yes, ma'm?" he gives her a respectful bow.

Rachel grins obliviously at him. "Hello. I'm Rachel Berry. Nice to meet you."

"Yes, Ms. Berry, a pleasure."

The staff all mumble expansive "Good evening, ma'm"'s to Rachel. She beams at the staff, charmed at being acknowledged. "Nice to meet all of you as well."

The butler motions the rest of the staff to sit while he remains standing in front of the young woman. He shifts from foot-to-foot, nervously- the staff is not used to having Fabray family or guests in this part of the house.

Rachel examines the jar in his hand with an observant stare. "What is that you are eating?"

He clears his throat and raises regards his peanut butter sheepishly. "Laura Scudder's Peanut Butter."

"'Laura Scudder's Peanut Butter'." Rachel echoes, still eyeing the jar attentively. "Do you like it?"

"I would say, ma'm, it is right up there with Jif and Skippy." He smiles at the bewildered look on the young woman's face. "But miles ahead of Peter Pan."

"Could I-"

"Would you like a taste, Miss?" Rachel nods eagerly as the butler fashions her a spoonful, and offers it to her.

Rachel puts the entire spoonful in her mouth and swallows it. Choking briefly at the texture, her eyes water at the sensation. She has not yet found a comfortable way of masticating, her mouth and tongue go every which way as the staff observe her in complete fascination. Finishing her spoonful, she smacks her lips together in delight. Eagerly, she gestured for the jar, and plunges her spoon in the second he hands it to her.

"You're a peanut butter fan now, eh, miss?"

She nods enthusiastically, "Yes, I am! I thoroughly enjoy this peanut butter," she says, holding the jar with the utmost care. "And I thoroughly enjoyed meeting all of you." Rachel raises the spoonful of peanut butter in a kind of toast to the staff. "I'll be...heading along now."

Rachel exits with the spoon and jar of peanut butter clutched in her grasps, smiling at the cheerful "Goodnight, Miss Berry"'s, her tongue cravingly licking the edges of the spoon.

By the time she's halfway finished with the jar, Rachel finds herself in a room with spectacular indoor Olympic pool, window commanding views of the skyline. She stops as she catches sight of Quinn swimming laps, looking very professional in a black swimsuit. She wanders in closer, still licking her peanut butter. Rachel observes her quietly, though Quinn is unaware of her presence- however as the blonde makes a barrel turn- Rachel's shadow falls over a reflection from a window causing her to abort her lap, causing her to look up to see who it is.

Quinn gazes at her silently for moment before she turns away with a small huff. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm lost," Rachel responds honestly, looking down at her feet.

As Quinn climbs out of the pool, she gets halfway up the ladder before pointing to a stack of towels. "Hand me one of those, will you?" Rachel turns to the towels, but one hand is occupied with the spoonful of peanut butter, and the other with the jar. Quinn watches in befuddlement as Rachel hovered over the stack of towels with a confused look on her face. Finally, Rachel implants the spoon in her mouth, lifts the towel and presents it to the blonde with an adorably proud look on her face.

Quinn bit her lip and looked away to keep herself from doing something she might regret. "I-I can't seem to escape you today."

"I'm sorry." Rachel watched at the blonde dried herself off, brows furrowing at the strange feeling creeping up in the pit of her stomach.

"You must have something really big going on with my father-'

"Big?"

Quinn babbles on, oblivious to Rachel's burning gaze. "You appear at his side out-of-the-blue, stay at his house, eat dinner with his family, it's practically a first. You're in the red-hot center of big business and I thought you were just a regular girl." She finishes with a sad smile.

Rachel shoved a spoonful of peanut butter in her mouth. "I am a girl." She mumbled in confusion.

"Not the one I met this morning," Quinn's voice shook. "Hitting on me in the nicest way as I've been hit on in a long time, but the moment you find out I'm my Dad's daughter, you act like a stranger."

"That was not my intention." Rachel continues to nibble at her peanut butter, frowning at the sight of wetness in the corner of the blonde's eyes.

"What are your intentions?" The doctor questioned, looking up at Rachel with large watery eyes. "To make little dreams in coffee shops, turn a girl's head-," she looks away with a scoff, "-and I don't mind admitting my head was turned... I liked it...but ten hours later I feel like an idiot. I don't get it. My father, you here in this house, the coffee shop, it's making me upset, and I don't like being upset. Who are you? And... _what_ _in the world_ are you eating?"

"...Peanut butter." She finishes the spoonful. "But it's all gone now." Rachel lowers the spoon in the jar and starts to stick the whole thing in the pocket of her pants, before Quinn's quirked brow makes her realize that this is inappropriate and quite impossible a task.

Quinn holds her hand out to her, and Rachel happily places the jar in it and the doctor sets it on the table with the towels. She watches, fascinated, as Rachel licks her gums, enjoying every last bit of her spoonful. "You act like you never had peanut butter before."

"I haven't."

"What kind of childhood did you have?"

Rachel doesn't answer and looks down for a moment before taking a step closer to the doctor. Bringing her gaze back up, she watches Quinn's eyes flutter and hears how her breath hitches. She frowns deeply in thought. "Quinn?"

"Yes, Rachel?" the blonde asks lowly, licking her lips as the brunette stepped took another step towards her.

"Have you ever been in love?"

The blonde blinks in surprise at the question. "Come again?"

Shrugging naively, Rachel looked up at her with bright eyes. "Your father...he talks about it- love, like it's this wonderful thing...something you can't live without_..._something you _shouldn_'t live without- and I've never known anything quite like what he describes."

Quinn couldn't help but recoil dejectedly at her words. "You've...never felt it? Not even anything close to it?" she asks, scared to hear that Rachel felt nothing for her at all.

The young brunette regards her silently, head tilted in thought. "I've felt...things," she muses, "But I can't seem to make sense of them, so, I was wondering if you have ever felt it...love...could you tell me what it is like? To be in love?"

Quinn thinks about Finn and everything they've been through, all the things they've shared and experienced as a couple. Then she thinks back to the coffee shop and how for a moment, true love seemed possible. "I...I d-don't think that's any of your business, Rachel." It comes out harsher than she had intended.

Her chest tightens as Rachel backs away from her, eyes heartrendingly wounded. "I'm sorry, Quinn...and I didn't mean to offend you at dinner. I'm not quite... at home sometimes with people. I get busy doing what it is that I do, and I don't seem to have developed-" she drifts off carefully.

"Yes?"

Deep chestnut eyes lock with her own, and Quinn ponders about how haunted those eyes look. "I have a certain function to perform, and that seems to take all of my time. But sometimes, uh- I speculate that... I haven't left room for... anything else." Rachel finishes awkwardly, looking up at her earnestly.

"I'm sorry to say I know what you're saying."

"Quinn?" Rachel once again comes towards her, making the doctor sigh internally at those puppy dog eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is- I'd like us to be... friends." She concludes with a hopeful smile.

"Friends?" the blonde asks, shaking her head in disbelief. _'I don't want to be _just_ your friend,' _Quinn thinks to herself before banishing those thoughts away. "I've got plenty of friends, Rachel."

"I don't have any." The brunette young woman offers naively.

"Well...I can see why." Turning away from those eyes, Quinn finishes drying herself off, drops the towel on a chair, and prepares to leave.

"Wait."

Quinn sighs. "What, Rachel?"

"Did you know you have a wet spot on your shoulder?"

The doctor glances at her shoulder just as Rachel grabs a towel, and with perhaps the softest touch, the brunette hovers shyly over the drops of water, patting them gently to dry.

Rachel hands Quinn the towel with small smile. "Goodnight to you, Quinn."

The blonde swallows heavily. "Goodnight, Rachel." She takes a step towards a door, and Rachel, taking a step in the wrong direction, causes them to almost walk into each other. Quinn flushes brightly, takes a step in another direction, as does Rachel, and again they almost collide. Rachel glances up completely puzzled, finally Quinn heads for one door while Rachel goes to another.

"Rachel-"

"Hmm?"

"I think you want to go to the west wing. Through there."

The young brunette smiles softly at her.

"Thank you."

Rachel redirects herself and goes to the door. As she's about to exit, Rachel looks back only to find Quinn staring at her, and the two look at each other from across the pool, both smiling sheepishly at catching each other's glances.

As Rachel leaves, for a moment Quinn's eyes remain on the door through which she has gone. Now she grips the towel over her shoulders, the one the brunette gave her, and pats the same spot she did.

...

The next morning, Russell, dressed for the day, passes servants busy with their morning tasks, polishing doorknobs, putting away linen, dusting picture frames. He nods and greets them as he strides down the hall, offering brief good mornings to the butler and the housekeeper.

Reaching the door to Rachel's guest suite, he knocks and waits a courteous moment before opening the door. Russell finds the tiny brunette standing in front of a whole length mirror, dressed in an elegant shirt and trousers, observing her reflection quite thoroughly.

"Good morning."

Rachel turns to him with a polite grin, "Good morning to you, Russell."

"How are you?" The man asks, standing behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"Feeling?" she echoes in bemusement, "I feel fine. How do you feel?" She asks out of courtesy.

"Um, well, I didn't sleep too well-" he cuts himself of with a frustrated huff, making Rachel sigh. "This is crazy! This is the most left-field thing of all time...What do I do? What do I tell my family? he mutters to himself.

The young woman straightens up. "Oh, I wouldn't tell them anything, Russell. You'll ruin the good start we had last night. I felt as if I were being treated like a person. 'Rachel' this and 'Rachel' that..."-she thinks back to Quinn's smile, "-they gave me lovely smiles and while it's certainly no 'rapture' or 'passion' or any of those mighty things you seem so intent on imparting...it was captivating." Rachel utters dreamily before regarding the man with brooding dark eyes. "But I am certain, should you say who I am...our adventure would end quite... _abruptly_."

Russell gazes at her in contemplation, eyeing the open collar of her shirt. "You need something to go with that shirt. Tie, bow-tie, or jacket?" he asks, opening drawers and closets that held such items.

Rachel scrutinizes each option before pointing to a simple black skinny tie. "That one, please." He hands it to her, and she holds it in her hands enthusiastically. She eyes his own perfectly tied tie and loops it around her neck. "I did so enjoy your family, I would hate to leave so soon."

The man is quiet as he regards Rachel carefully. The tie is a mess now, a bundle of silk stretching across the young woman's collarbone. "What about my family? This '_adventure_' involves only me, right?" Silence permeates the room as Rachel considers the point, Russell quickly crosses to her, undoes the tie, and now begins tying it for her. "Tell you what, you promise that it's going to be only me and-"

"And what?"

"And I won't tell anyone who you are."

"Sounds fair enough."

"It is a deal?"

"A 'deal'?" she parrots, intrigued by the word.

He clarifies it for her patiently. "You give your word and I give mine that we'll do what we say. It's a truth exchanged between two people."

There is a brief pause.

"Russell..."

"Yes?"

"You've got a deal."

Russell offers Rachel a small smile in relief. He has now, with some difficulty, completed the tying of Rachel's tie, adjusts it beautifully on he collar, then spins him around in front of the mirror. Rachel, catching sight of her own appearance, rises to the balls of her feet, quite taken. "Oh, wow, this is great!" She turns to Russell with a wide smile, "Now what do we do?

"Shake hands."

Rachel immediately extends her hand toward Russell, but he freezes on seeing the hand, stares at it, but after a moment... takes it. She pumps his hand vigorously, breaking into a broad grin.

...

Russell strides downtown with Death by his side, both of them blending right in, Rachel clearly enjoying being part of the Upper Class fifth avenue crowd. The man eyes the young woman beside him, conflicted at the sight of interest on Rachel's face as she examines the people headed for their offices at the top of corporate high-rises.

"You know, I got to thinking last night," he clears his throat in hesitation. "With you being here and all, how your..._work..._going elsewhere?"

There's a flicker of look that crosses over Rachel's face. She heard what the the older man has said, her eyes were busy with taking in the sparkle of the Avenue, but she's concentrating on Russel's words.

She pauses thoughtfully before answering. "When you were shaving this morning, you weren't just shaving, were you?"

"What do you mean?"

Rachel answers him with calmness. "You were doing other things, breathing, making ideas, going over the things you had to do today, right?"

"I-I suppose that's right."

"So you understand the concept then." She says, nodding at him with approval. "You've grasped the idea. Wonderful job, Russell. Now multiply that by infinity, take it to the depths of forever, and you still will have barely a glimpse of what I am talking about."

The man falls silent, chewing over Rachel admonition.

"Rachel-?"

"Yes, Russell."

"How about giving a guy a break?"

"You mean, make an exception?"

"There's one to every rule."

She glances at him briefly. "Not this."

They stride on, cutting through the crowd, Rachel completely at home in her surroundings, but Russell is just the opposite, he is uncharacteristically uncomfortable, phrases forming on his lips remain unspoken, before he can no longer contain himself.

"I don't deserve this. I'm still young, this is not my time-"

"That's what everybody says." Rachel stops abruptly in front of a hot dog stand and looks at it with wonderment. "Could I get one of these, Russell?"

He pulls her away. "You're supposedly vegan, and I'm not just everybody."

She bottom lip juts out at being denied. "That's what everybody says."

Russell is trying to control himself as he looks at the face of Death.

"I want- I want to live."

"I understand." Rachel looks away minutely before facing with a grim expression. "But you can't."

A sudden silence between them. Russell's shoulders slacken slightly, the courage he displayed at raising the issues has vanished.

"What's it like?" he asks in defeat.

"What do you mean?"

"What's it like...," he looks to the sky, "...where I'm going?"

Rachel eyes the clouds in confusion. "Can you keep a secret, Russell?"

"Yes, of course."

Skipping ahead of him, she turns around and begins to walk backwards. They turn into Russell's office building, and just as they enter, she smiles at him briefly. "So can I."

...

As Rachel and Russell emerge from the executive elevator, Russell's assistant is waiting as usual equipped with a pad of paper and a pen, her usual greetings of "Good morning"s, and a genuine smile. The business man nods at her briefly before striding down the hall, Rachel right beside him. The assistant hurries along behind them, furiously taking notes as Russell spoke.

"-And call my family, I'd like them to come over for dinner tonight."

"Of course, Mr. Fabray. Right away."

"Anything else, sir? Miss?"

Rachel chimes in. "Yes, actually, I would like a hot dog, please. A vegan one if that's possible."

The assistant looks briefly to Russell, wondering if she heard the instructions right. From the embarrassed, yet commanding look on the man's face, the assistant nods in bewilderment. "Of course, ma'm."

"Wonderful!"

Russell turns to his companion as his assistant scurried away to fulfill her request. "Perhaps you would like to wait in my office?"

"No."

"What I'm trying to say is this is a Board meeting and you are not a member of the Board."

"I'm sure you'll see to it that it won't be a problem."

He hesitates for a second before nodding, conceding the point, and reaches for the doorknob of the board room. He enters the room with poise only a man of his stature could possess, Rachel following right behind him, looking at all the faces with wonder.

"Good morning," he greets, taking his seat at the head of the long table.

Everyone sits when Russell does but Rachel spots a tray of refreshments and desserts in the corner of the room and glows with happiness, with a bounce in her step she heads for them.

Talking to the board, Russell gestures awkwardly to the young girl. "This is, uh, Rachel Berry, a personal associate of mine...ahem...she'll be joining us today. I know it's quite unusual, and my apologies. Right, please, carry on."

Immediately there are indications of surprise on Board members' faces at Russell bringing in an 'observer', particularly one man- Jesse St. James, an up and coming new partner of the company- looks at the tiny brunette with a guarded, but intense gaze. He was a part of the new wave of business sharks rising up in the world, along with Finn, but he had something the towering boy didn't-

-ambition.

Jesse was full of ambition, so much so that it clouded everything else.

"Nice to see meet you," he smirked at her briefly before turning breaking into a charming smile. "I didn't expect visitors, but certainly if Mr. Fabray thinks that you'd be a useful addition, then the more the merrier I say."

Rachel sips distractedly at her glass of juice. "Thank you."

"The Board of Fabray Communications is hereby called to order." He clears his throat dramatically. "Our sole order of business is an acceptance of John Bontecou's generous offer and-"

"Do you have any more of these delicious cookies?" Rachel interrupts, swallowing her last bite.

There is a hushed silence at the inappropriateness of her interruption, but she's oblivious to it, instead she sends a friendly wave to Finn- who sat between two stuffy looking executive types- looking bored out of his mind.

She looks up at Jesse. "And a cup of tea. With milk, I think. I'd like to try it English-style. Yes, a cup of tea with milk."

"Anything else, Ms. Berry" he asks sarcastically. "How about some water?

"Why yes, thank you."

"Hot or cold."

"Cold."

Jesse clenches his jaw as he indicates to the Board's Stenographer to arrange Rachel's refreshments.

"Would you like to sit down, Rachel?" Russell gestures quietly to the chair beside him.

"Yes."

With a subtle glare in Rachel's direction, Jesse continues. "To review - we're really crossing the 't's and dotting the 'i's here. Mr. Fabray had a great and conclusive meeting with John Bontecou yesterday, all that remains for us is to put it to a vote."

Smiles and murmurs of a congratulatory receptiveness are heard from the Board at Jesse's news.

"Thank you, Jesse." Russell utters emptily. He takes a moment, draws himself up to say something official then stops himself. "Um, I did enjoy, or rather, I was interested in meeting John yesterday...impressive... I suppose... But it did get me to thinking. I started in this business because this is what I wanted to do. I knew I wasn't going to write the Great American Novel, but I also knew there was more to life than buying something for a dollar and selling it for two. I'd love to make a profit, of course! You can't exist without one but John Bontecou is _all profit_. If we give him license to absorb Fabray Communications, we'll be appointing him to the position he craves- Gatekeeper. In order to reach the world you will have to go through him. And not only will you have to pay him to do this...why, you'll have to agree with him!" he pauses for a breath while the rest of the room's occupants looked at him in silence. "Reporting the news is a privilege and a responsibility and it is not exploitable. Fabray Communications has earned this privilege... John Bontecou wants to buy it! As your chairman, I urge you to agree this company is not for sale."

Rachel looks up at him with something akin to admiration.

Everybody shifts in their seats in thought and in shock, as Jesse tries to maintain his balance.

"Sounds like you're not leaving much room for discussion," Jesse mutters carefully. "Well, that's your privilege, Russell. But given our needs... given the absolute necessity for growth... given the future... the truth is... joining John Bontecou is every bit as certain as - Death and Taxes.

Rachel interjects at this. "'Death and Taxes'?"

Jesse resists the urge to roll his eyes at the blank look on the young woman's face. "Yes, Miss Berry."

"Death and Taxes." She repeats with emphasis, glancing wide eyed at Russell. "...What an odd pairing."

"It's just a saying, Miss Berry."

"Of whom?"

"It doesn't matter."

She furrows her brows naively. "Then why did you bring it up?"

He regards her for a moment. "You're not familiar with the phrase, 'In this world, nothing is certain but Death and Taxes'?"

"I am now." She murmurs, once again distracted by the arrival of her hotdog, cookies, and beverages.

Russell glaces around the room, the Board seemed provoked and utterly mystified by Rachel and even more by her rather..._intriguing_ presence, he looks away as they cast meaningful glances at him, Jesse coolly grasps the irritation of the members.

Reaching up to adjust his already impeccable tie, Russell rises from his seat. "Shall we adjourn?"

"But the matter's still on the table, Bill-" Jesse exclaims, his voice beginning to increase in volume.

Finn, who's been warily silent, stands and interrupts the curly haired man before him. "Why don't we leave it alone for today? Let it rest? Give it some air?" he suggested with a squinty eyed grin.

Russell smiles wryly at his daughter's significant other. "Well said, Finn. Rachel, shall we?"

She gets up, juggling her food with both hands. "Those cookies were excellent."

As soon as they exit, a babble of disturbed reactions erupt from the Board.

"Who is that girl!" Jesse fumes, grabbing his cellphone of the desk. "Yes, this is Jesse St. James. Listen to me, I need you to get me a Field Background check on a Rachel Berry. Litigations. Bankruptcies. Credit ratings. The works. Got it?"

He slams the phone down.

...

Russell enters his spacious office with Rachel right on his heels, finishing the last of her vegan hot dog.

"What's the deal here? Are you going to be breathing down my neck right 'til the very end?"

"I don't understand."

The man tries to gather himself to avoid an altercation. "...I'd like to be alone for a while."

Rachel looks up from wiping her hands on her pants. She stares at him intently, trying to understand. "Are you...are you sad, Russell?"

"Yes, I am." He puffs out a heavy breath. "There's a research library on the fourth floor. Why don't you go down and read some magazines?"

She comes around to his side of the desk. "Why are you sad?"

"Rachel, could I ask you to take a walk? Buy a tie or something. I know I'll be seeing you."

"Of course." But she doesn't move to go.

"Now, Rachel," he begins, prompting. "I'd like to be alone."

"Oh. Okay."

He reaches into his pocket and hands her some cash. "Here, uh, this will hold you for a while." She stares blankly at the money as Russell shows her the door. "You know about money, don't you?"

"It can't buy happiness?"

He opens the door pointedly. "Good bye, Rachel."

"See you later, Russell."

...

Rachel walks into the emergency room area with a keen eye and open ears, fascinated by the hustle and bustle of the hospital. Across the hallway, she sees Quinn giving instructions to a Nurse, a patient on an examining table beside them. As she finishes, she looks up and Rachel smiles as the doctor notices her down the corridor in the reception area. Quinn seemed startled for a moment, but she quickly makes a last notation, hands a chart to the Nurse and heads down the corridor, towards Rachel.

"What are you-"

"How nice you look." Rachel smiles at her, taking in the blonde in her uniform.

Quinn regards her wordlessly for a moment. "Why did you come here?" she breathed out, looking away from the other girl.

Rachel doesn't have an answer.

"Are you ill?" The doctor's expression turns to that of concern.

"Oh goodness, no."

"Then why are you here, Rachel?" she asks in mild exasperation.

"I came to see you."

Quinn stutters at the bluntness of her response. "I-I don't really have any time to see you right now. I'm doing rounds and then after I'm examining back-to-back patients until dinner and then-"

"Very well, I'll watch."

"Watch me do what?"

"Whatever you do."

"That's impossible. I'm a doctor."

"And I'll be a visitor." Rachel looks at Quinn, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled widely at the frazzled looking blonde.

"Patients have visitors, not doctors."

"I don't mind-"

"Miss? Miss Doctor?"

Behind them are two elder Jewish women, one is holding her stomach and rocking back and forth in her wheelchair. Its evident that she's in great pain.

"Please." The standing woman pleads, her accent thickening as she got more upset. "My sister's sicker than she is."

The sitting woman looks up and as soon as she sees Rachel, she abruptly becomes still, eyes wide, as if with sudden recognition.

"_מות_," the elder woman muttered frightfully.

_Death_.

Quinn glanced at Rachel in confusion. "Do you understand what she's saying?"

"_אני הולך למות."_

_I'm going to die.  
_

"Stop it." The other woman looked at Rachel in apology. "She's just a girl."

Rachel looks at the sitting woman with morbid curiosity.

"What is she saying?" Quinn asks, biting her lip, shooting the brunette beside a meaningful glance.

"It means Bad spirit. She's delirious from the pain. Please, help us."

"Have you filled out the insurance forms?" When the woman shakes her head anxiously, Quinn gives her a gentle smile. "Why don't we go fill those out right now, alright?"

Rachel leans forward. "_I'm not death. Everything's going to be alright._" She answers in perfect Hebrew. "_You're going to be fine_."

Quinn looks at her in astonishment as the ill woman's fearful gaze remains locked on Rachel. "_The doctor's going to take good care of you._"

"_Don't leave!_" The woman pleads to her sister as Quinn led her sister away to fill out the papers.

"_You're the Grim._"

Rachel shook her head. "_The Grim is evil. I'm not evil._"

"_What are you then?_"

"_I'm...from the next place._" She concludes with a small smile.

"_Are you waiting here to take us?_"

"_No, no, I'm on holiday._"

The sick woman looks around the hospital dubiously. "_Some spot you pick._" She chuckles briefly before wincing with pain, gasping. "_The_ _pain is bad."_

"_I have nothing to do with that_," Rachel says softly.

"_Make it go away._"

Kneeling down in front of the older woman, Death spoke to the woman in a gentle voice. "_The doctor will make it go away._"

"_Not this pain. This is true pain. She can't make this go away._"

"_I can't._"

"_You can._" She asserts, "_Take me to that next place._"

Rachel looks at her for a long time, thinking, _feeling_, before sighing with regret. "_It's not your time yet_."

"_Make it my time._"

She shakes her head, a firm no. But when she looks and speaks to the ill woman again, her words are heavily laced with concern and even compassion. "_I can't change how things are meant to be._"

Quinn and the woman return with an Orderly.

"_Please_..." she cries to Rachel once more.

"Come now," As she begins to get wheeled away, she looks pleadingly at Rachel.

"Wait." Rachel steps forward, putting her hand on the sick woman's arm. "Close your eyes."

She does, and her pained grimace melts into a peaceful smile.

Rachel leans down to whisper in her ear. "Soon." She takes her hand away, and the Orderly wheels the woman off.

"Go with her." Quinn turns to the woman's sister. "I'll be right there."

As she goes to be with her family, Rachel turns to Quinn with wide glassy eyes. "She's in a great deal of pain."

"Yes."

The doctor regards Rachel, puzzled. "You speak fluent Hebrew?"

"Yes." Rachel shifts uncomfortably. "I-I realize now that my being here... this is not really appropriate and I-"

"Don't apologize." Quinn cuts in kindly. "There's nothing to be sorry for- every hospital should have someone like you."

Rachel brings a hand up to her chest, forehead wrinkling in silent turmoil. She stays silent as she waited for the tightness in her chest to go away at the sight of affection in Quinn's beautiful eyes.

"-I'm glad you came."

She jerks her head clumsily. "Thank you. I'm so very glad to be here."

They both don't move as they search for words. Finally, with a barely there grin, Rachel breaks the silence. "I could come again...to visit you."

Quinn's expression falters. "Rachel, I-I'm with Finn."

"With Finn?" she echoes.

"He and I, we're...we're together. Romantically. I'm with him."

Rachel casts her eyes downward. "Not right now," she naively responds.

The doctor smiles gently.

"Don't you want me to come again?"

Quinn turns away to avoid those chestnut eyes. "I have to go, I'm sorry to say -"

"Be sorry for nothing." Rachel utters with the utmost sincerity.

"Yes." The blonde clears her throat. "Well...thank you, Rachel."

She turns to go, hesitating.

"Good bye to you."

Quinn waves softly to Rachel, heading down the hall, but she can't help but glance back once, only to see that Rachel has not moved, and is watching her as she departs.


End file.
